When I was ten, my yia-yia died, leaving my mother a little pocket money which she used to take us all to France for a month. We rented a spooky house in Aix-en-Provence (and I by "spooky" I mean "mysterious and terrifying sounds at night just steps away from our bedrooms"), ate lots of raspberry tart and stinky cheese, and toured around in a little Peugeot.
I wore a straw boater with a wide, red and white striped band and a white cotton sundress. My brother wore striped athletic socks and an expression of supreme boredom. We listened to Dire Straits non-stop. It's funny the odd little things you remember from childhood. Like the beautiful Calissons du Roy René, made with the same recipe since 1454.
I found these lemon, orange, prune, fig, and violet-flavored almond cookies at Dean & Deluca this weekend while looking for an overpriced chocolate bunny. They brought me back to that summer in Aix.
So lovely to look at and so delicious. I think they'd make an elegant hostess present. Let's give the macarons a rest, yes?
